


Centre of Attention

by pushkin666



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: BDSM, Bandslash, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-29
Updated: 2009-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-05 11:14:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pushkin666/pseuds/pushkin666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete craves Patrick's attention. He won't stop until he's gotten it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Centre of Attention

Pete sighed and leaned his head back against the wall.

Bored; he was bored and his whole body ached from standing here like this. It felt like he'd been here for hours, although he knew in reality he hadn't. He shifted slowly, easing the ache in his legs, before going still again. Movement to stop himself from cramping up was allowed but nothing more. He shivered although it had little to do with the cold, despite the fact that he was naked; Patrick had ensured the room was warm before ordering him against the wall. The wall felt cool against his ass and he was grateful for that coolness against the burning skin.

His eyes moved to the room's other occupant. Patrick's head was down, his attention focused on the laptop in front of him but Pete knew that Patrick was aware of every move and every sound he made and it would all be remembered, stored away for later. He closed his eyes, trying not to think about the actions that had put him here, standing in silence against the wall.

He had known he was buying trouble for himself but sometimes he just couldn't help it. Patrick's attention had been elsewhere this evening; and he'd reverted to acting like a twelve-year-old on too much sugar; bouncing, poking Patrick, and generally being annoying until Patrick's attention was fully on him.

The thing with Patrick was that his reactions were unpredictable. Oh, he'd react eventually, of that Pete could be assured, but Patrick liked to keep him on edge wondering exactly what he was going to do. Sometimes he'd just be held down until he calmed, Patrick lying atop him; other times he'd be fucked over one of the couches. Tonight though, tonight he'd been pulled down over Patrick's knee and held down by his neck as Patrick's other hand had pulled his jeans down, the tight denim scraping over his cock eliciting an involuntary gasp. Patrick had chuckled before bringing his hand down hard on Pete's bare skin, hitting him at the top of his thighs before starting to spank him in earnest, making Pete count along with each stroke of his hand. He'd stopped short of one hundred strokes, Pete now calm beneath his hands, quiet except for the hiccupping brought on by his crying. Patrick had slowly stroked his back, whispering soft words to him, words that Pete couldn't quite hear but it was the tone more than anything that he was listening to; that soft, loving and reassuring tone.

After a few moments Patrick had pulled him up onto his lap, holding him in place even as Pete tried to move away, the pain of his raw spanked backside and thighs exacerbated against the rough texture of Patrick's jeans. Patrick had held him still before kissing him forcefully, his teeth biting at Pete's lips, making him submit in yet another way. All of Pete's focus had been on Patrick; the reassuring feel and smell of him. And then, Patrick had made him stand up and pushed him toward the wall where he could see him; where, as he told Pete, "my attention will be completely on you."

Pete sighed again and this time Patrick looked up, his gaze flicking from his work towards him. He set aside his laptop and stood up from the couch, walking over to Pete with slow and easy steps. Patrick stopped in front of him and grasped his jaw with his hand, holding him steady. Pete wanted to close his eyes, to avoid Patrick's knowing, loving look but he couldn't. He swallowed and tried to duck his head and Patrick's grip tightened on his jaw. He hated this, probably more than anything else, the way Patrick would just stop and look at him. It was as though he could read everything that Pete was, ever had been and ever would be. It made him extremely uncomfortable, made him want to squirm and look away from the other man. This was attention that he didn't desire; it scared him how Patrick could see all the way into his soul and still want him. Being held down by Patrick, feeling himself lulled under by Patrick's words, being spanked, all of that was easy compared to this.

"Turn around."

Pete blinked, not immediately realising that he was being spoken to. The fingers on his jaw tightened again.

"Turn around, Pete. I want to see your ass." Patrick's fingers dug into the soft skin around his jaw before letting go. Pete turned slowly, away from Patrick and toward the wall. He rested his hands against the plaster, automatically moving into presentation position; backside jutting out, legs spread slightly and head down. His breath began to quicken as Patrick stroked down his back, the movement calming him. He cried out as Patrick's hand grasped his left cheek, hard fingers digging into the sensitive flesh.

"Nice," Patrick whispered. "But you seem to be losing the colour. We can't have that now, can we? I think we should keep this red all night long, don't you?" His fingers were now softly trailing over Pete's ass and Pete shivered.

"Brace yourself," Patrick said. "Don't forget to count for me, Pete." Pete gulped but held himself steady waiting for the first slap. "Ready?"

Pete whimpered as Patrick's hand came down forcefully on his backside, trying not to flinch away from the pain. It was always like this, the first strokes inflaming his skin, jolting soft whimpers from him before the pain began to increase and those whimpers become cries of pain, the sounds torn from his throat.

Patrick knew exactly what he was doing, how much strength to put behind each stroke. Pete cried out as Patrick's hand came down again and again. The strokes weren't consistent; Patrick seemed determined to make sure that this time Pete wouldn't zone out, wouldn't get to the point where the pain really didn't mean anything anymore. . Patrick clearly wanted him to be aware for this, to hear what he was saying, and to feel Pete coming apart.

"Such a pretty little slut for me, aren't you?" Patrick murmured. "Can you even imagine how you look right now, all spread out and shaking under my hand? Can you even hear the noises you make? Such needy little whimpers and desperate little gasps! You love this, don't you? How long can you keep this up, hmmm? Because I can do this all night just to watch you shake and tremble, scream and fall apart underneath my hand."

Low, dark words whispered into his ear turn his legs to jelly and send shivers down his spine, threatening to take him apart, break his defences down. It was what he wanted, what he'd been pushing for all night.

He could hear his own breathing, harsh and ragged through the sound of the slaps and he scrunched his eyes tight, trying and failing to stop the tears from falling, to ensure that he counted each stroke without missing one. Pete pushed his fingers against the wall as though it was the only thing holding him up, listening to Patrick's whispered words.

It was only when his cries become full out sobs and he was trembling so hard that he thought his knees were going to collapse under him that Patrick began to slow the slaps until, finally, his hand was just resting on Pete's backside. Pete gasped as he was pulled round and into Patrick's arms. He burrowed into Patrick's embrace, his tears soaking into Patrick's t-shirt as Patrick tightened his grip, holding him safe in his arms.


End file.
